


Colors

by goddess_asutacia



Category: Sword Art Online (Anime & Manga)
Genre: F/M, Non-Explicit Smut, Painter!Asuna AU, Rated M just in case, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, it's just a paragraph but, just two dorks in love, not needing much to be happy UwU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 11:41:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30021255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddess_asutacia/pseuds/goddess_asutacia
Summary: She doesn't need much to be happy; just some paint, a brush, an empty canvas... and him.
Relationships: Kirigaya Kazuto | Kirito/Yuuki Asuna | Asuna
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Colors

**Author's Note:**

> This was just yet another one of my random ideas to try and get my writer's block to leave me alone :') It's short, but I hope you like it anyways ^_^

Painting was her life.

It was a simple statement, one she pronounced with the utmost confidence, as easy an affirmation as any other fact about herself. Those closest to her knew it and were fully aware of her devotion to it, and long gone were the days when she tried to deny it, tried to fight the pull she felt towards what she then considered a hobby. Going against the tide proved to be fruitless, and she came to the conclusion that there was no point trying to deny what was so obviously a part of her. As such, Asuna allowed herself to let go of the attempts she never truly wanted to make, as she finally accepted that painting was what she wished to do with her life.

“There is no future to it. Your time would be better spent doing something that will give you stability.” Her mother would say, stomping down on her passion as effortlessly as one would expect from a woman who only cared about others’ opinions and neglected her children’s.

“But what about my happiness?” she finally retorted on the day she decided to put down her foot. “Doesn’t it matter at all? Shouldn’t I be doing something that makes me happy, above all things?”

“Happiness is fleeting. Don’t attach yourself to such trivial feelings, they’re nothing more than an illusion. I did not raise you like this.”

That was the final straw, what pushed her over the edge and made her come to the decision of leaving everything behind. With what she’d been able to save until then and only the essentials packed in her suitcase, she left home, without looking back.

And thus, she was finally happy. She did not need grandeur, did not need to live a life of obliging herself to do what she did not want to.

All she needed was paint, a brush and an empty canvas. Blending the colors against the white backdrop, shaping them into whatever she envisioned, watching with pride and amazement as it came together in the most splendid of ways. Some of her works didn’t come out the way she’d originally pictured, but that was okay, because they still held a special place in her heart and in her home. She saved them in a corner, never capable of throwing them away and always finding herself going back to them on random occasions. While drinking her morning coffee, she’d unconsciously move closer to them, fingers fiddling with the edges of the multiple canvas leaning against the wall and eyes roaming over its contents, conjuring up ideas that never seemed to cease. Whenever she felt stressed or hurt or confused, she’d go to that corner and sit down on the floor for a while, the paintings offering her a weird sense of comfort.

For over a year after she left home, painting was the only constant in her life. Apart from living alone, having to pay rent and working two part-time jobs, she still managed to fit it into her tight schedule, between grocery shopping and looking for sponsors who might be interested in her works. Despite it being draining, she was proud of what she’d been able to achieve so far.

The studio she lived in was small and antique, but it was what she could afford and all she needed. Empty canvas and finished paintings lay everywhere, buckets of paint and countless brushes alike scattered all around; a well-worn mattress sat in the corner, no bedframe supporting it, a small lamp and a pile of books sitting beside it on the floor; the old floorboards creaked with every step she took and the paint on the walls was starting to chip away on some places; the windows were rusty, and she struggled to slide them open and shut them closed afterwards; the doors groaned with the slightest of movements and she had to jiggle her key a particular way to unlock the front door. It was everything her mother told her to avoid, but everything she loved.

She was thankful for what she had and the path she chose to follow in life, not only because it allowed her to do what she’s passionate about, but also because… it led her to the one she loves most.

Asuna had always been one to lose all sense of time when she focused entirely on her works. With a comfortable crop top and a pair of high-waisted shorts, she’d put on her favorite playlist loud on her speaker and dance around her studio barefoot as she painted. Nighttime came, and she’d only take notice of it when the need to turn on the lights arose. Eating and sleeping were the last things on her mind, because when she was inspired, she refused to stop until she’d put her heart out on the canvas.

But _he_ was always there for her. Always ready to take the brush away from her hand, scoop her up into his arms and take her to bed, slipping beneath the sheets with her and tucking her head under his chin as he read her to sleep; to order takeout and gently remind her that she needs to eat as he guided her to the small dining table in her poor excuse of a kitchen and pulled out the chair for her to sit down on; to guide her to the bathroom and help her undress, testing the water’s temperature to make sure it was perfect before sitting with her on the bathtub, letting her rest her back against his chest and carefully washing her hair and massaging her shoulders to release some of the tension in her body; to sneak up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder and breathing out a “What are you working on?” against her ear, placing feathery kisses along her jaw that he knew would be enough to distract her from what she was doing and force her to focus on him instead; to love her unconditionally, even when she whined that she was not hungry and much less tired, her stomach grumbling and her eyes barely managing stay open in clear disagreement.

“Asuna, it’s 3AM, you need to sleep.” and “When was the last time you ate something decent?” were sentences she’d grown so very used to hearing, she could no longer imagine going a day without him saying them.

Kirito was not the kind to express his feelings on a regular basis. He was a confident man and he held himself with pride – but when it came to the matters of his heart, he was awkward and even shy at times. Rare were the occasions where he’d turn to her and outright tell her how he felt. But she didn’t mind it, because he didn’t _have_ to – he showed it to her every single day with his actions, and that was all she needed. What he lacked in words, he more than made up with warm gestures and tender looks.

It was all in the way he carried himself around her. It was in the smile that he reserved just for her. It was in the canvas that hung on the wall across from her mattress, their palms displayed on the white backdrop, his on the outer side, as if shielding hers from any and all harm. It was in him changing her playlist out of spite, putting some cheesy movie soundtrack instead and holding out his hand for her to take, before leading her around the studio in a clumsy waltz of sorts. It was in his fingers as he tickled her sides, running after her as she squeaked and tried to get away from him, only to fall victim to his hands due to the lack of space to escape to. It was in the sticky notes he stuck on the fridge every morning before he left, all of them wishing her a good day in a thousand different ways, followed by some cringey pickup line that would most likely make her roll her eyes if it came from anyone else but him.

And it was in the way he tenderly laid her down on her poor excuse of a bed and made love to her until the crack of dawn, giving her his full, undivided attention. His lips tracing all over her body, breath fawning over the sensitive marks his mouth imprinted on her skin, digits either feathering over her curves or holding onto her with the prowess of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. When he finally took it upon himself to connect their bodies, he’d kiss her deeply every so often, gazing straight into her eyes as he passionately moved within her. His knuckles would caress her cheek softly, trailing down her neck and torso until his hand found hers and interlocked their fingers together, bringing them up to his chest, right above his heart. It would always be racing, galloping inside his ribcage at an alarming pace – and she would realize it was her. It was all her who made him feel like this, who was capable of snatching his breath away as he whispered sweet words into her ears. And she’d return his affections tenfold, intent on letting him know just how good he was making her feel and how much she loved him.

Waking up in the arms of the one she loved was something she always made sure to engrave in her memory. Everything about him she committed to heart, from his messy raven bangs down to the sleepy look in his onyx eyes. Naturally, her hands would find their way to the top of his head, slender fingers running through his hair to try and tame it a bit as he did the same to her. Tucking some strands behind her ear, he’d lean in and kiss her forehead, lips lingering there as he allowed himself to whisper the words that made her heart leap inside of her chest.

“I love you, Asuna.”

‘Actions speak louder than words’ is something she always believed in. It’s true, and she really doesn’t need him to say it out loud, because she _knows_. Yet sometimes, she allows herself to let his words consolidate his actions, and with a barely disguised smile, she buries her face in his neck and whispers “I love you” back.


End file.
